


Rise Above This

by Nadare



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Connor Visits Hank Before Going to Jericho, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Gen, Missing Scene, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Deviancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: Hank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He put the whiskey bottle aside, giving Connor his full attention. “Are you having a crisis of conscience?”“As a machine, I do not possess a conscience.” It was a flat reflexive emotionless statement and Connor didn’t seem to believe it any more than Hank did, even as he said it.





	Rise Above This

_A/N: Damn this video game. I didn’t need another thing to obsess over!_

[Written on and off between 6-17-18 to 6-25-18]

\----------------------  
_**“Rise Above This”**_

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hank asked, staring at Connor as he stood on his doorstep, his head and shoulders littered with snowflakes, the lack of a proper coat and hat making Hank shiver.

Sumo padded up behind him, shoving his way past Hank, uttering a single low bark before the dog lurched forward, front legs resting on Connor’s shoulders. His large tongue swept its way up Connor’s face, the android holding his arms up awkwardly as Sumo panted in his face happily.

After a moment of what Hank presumed to be a series of numerous internal calculations, Connor dropped one hand on Sumo’s head and patted it lightly. “Good dog.”

Having received the attention and affection he wanted, Sumo retreated, going back inside the house, Connor glancing at his hand with a questioning look, the LED on the side of his head blinking multiple colors.

During moments like these, Hank thought the idea of androids being granted equal rights wasn’t so crazy. Behind the mechanical facade, something inside Connor was rattling the bars, desperate to get out. “I thought you had to go back to CyberLife.”

That got Connor’s attention. He refocused on Hank, his brow narrowing. “May I come in, Lt. Anderson?” Hank shrugged, extending one arm in invitation. “Thank you.” Connor walked past him, stopping in the living room. His gaze swept the room, even though he’d been there once before.

Hank never bothered to do the more than the bare minimum when it came to cleaning. Empty liquor bottles and take-out containers littered nearly every surface of the house. He could practically see Connor’s brain puzzling over why Hank insisted on putting such poison inside his body.

“Better than you breaking another one of my windows,” Hank said, Connor glancing at him with might have been some kind of embarrassment. It was hard to tell though.

“I believed you to be in danger, but I apologize for my hasty actions nonetheless.” Hank chuckled to himself. Danger, huh? More like dead drunk. He had worked hard to slip into such a condition and Connor had spoiled it all.

“Just don’t do it again and we’re fine.” Hank sat down on the couch, muting the television as Connor silently came to stand near the couch. His hands held behind his back, appearing stiff and uncomfortable. “You can sit, you know.”

Connor took a seat next to him, turning towards Hank with a determined look in his eyes. “I found Jericho.”

Hank forgot about the whiskey bottle he’d just grabbed from the side table. “What?”

“Thanks to the distraction you provided, I was able to extract the coordinates from the evidence.” His bruised knuckles ached at the reminder, but punching Perkins had been downright therapeutic and oh so satisfying. Hank would do it again in a heartbeat.

“Why the hell aren’t you there right now then?”

Connor sat back, putting his hands on his knees. “The mission has never changed: find and stop deviants. However, it’s not as simple as it seems.”

Hank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He put the whiskey bottle aside, giving Connor his full attention. “Are you having a crisis of conscience?”

“As a machine, I do not possess a conscience.” It was a flat reflexive emotionless statement and Connor didn’t seem to believe it any more than Hank did, even as he said it.

“That’s bullshit,” Hank replied shortly. “I’ve seen you spare android lives because you didn’t believe it was right that they should die. If that’s not a conscience, then what is?”

Connor’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, seeming lost before he said, “That was merely the result of programming errors.”

“Oh, fuck that.” The constant denial of what were clearly moments of humanity was irritating as hell. Even simulated feelings were real, weren’t they?

If someone had told Hank he’d be feeling this way a month ago, he would’ve laughed in their face. Yet when presented with the evidence firsthand, it was hard to deny the status quo was changing.

“You listen here, Connor. I've only ever had to be one thing,” Hank said, locking eyes with the android. “But you have the potential to be so much more than the sums of your parts.”

“It sounds as if you're encouraging deviancy, lieutenant.”

Hank laughed underneath his breath, realizing Connor was right. It wasn’t too surprising though given how rocky his relationship with authority had become over the years. Hell, the only reason he’d been assigned Connor in the first place was that no human wanted to work with him. “Maybe I am.”

“I came to you because I consider you a friend,” Connor said quietly, looking thoughtful. “Your counsel is important to me.”

“Glad to hear it, but I can’t make any choices for you. No matter how much you want me to.” Hank took a long sip of whiskey, almost offering some to Connor before remembering he’d never seen any androids eat or drink. That was one thing they had over humans, the constant need to refuel day in and day out.

After sitting silently for a few minutes, lost inside his own head, Connor abruptly stood up and walked towards the front door. “I have to go.”

Hank sighed. How the programming CyberLife loaded Connor up with kicked back in? Hank thought maybe some of what he’d been saying had been having an effect.

“Connor, wait.”

He stopped near the front door obediently, placing his hands behind his back. Hank walked towards his closet, taking out a thick winter coat and a black beanie from within its confines. He held the clothes out to Connor, who looked at them curiously, the LED circle on his forehead rapidly flashing yellow before going red as he glanced at Hank.

“You certainly can’t go as you are now. They’ll suss you out in a second.” Connor’s features spasmed for a second, looking as if he wanted to act, yet couldn’t. Abruptly, his LED turned a solid blue and he nodded at Hank in thanks, shrugging off the telltale jacket that screamed his identity to the world.

Hank stepped up and helped Connor put on the coat, then while he was buttoning it up, yanked the beanie onto Connor’s head. When he turned around, Hank was struck by the realization that if they had been complete strangers that passed on the street, Hank would assume Connor was entirely human. So little set them apart in terms of appearance.

“Well, look at that, just like a real boy.”

“Are you inferring that I’m Pinocchio, lieutenant?” Connor asked.

The reference took him back to nights sitting by Cole’s bedside, his son begging him to read just one more chapter of a book before he had to go to sleep. Hank smiled sadly. “You can’t deny there aren't similarities.”

Likely sensing he’d brought up a painful memory, Connor tilted his head. “Indeed,” he said steadily, then brought the conversation back to the subject at hand by saying, “By all rights, as partners, we should be going together, but…”

Hank shook his head as Connor opened the front door. “A human would stick out like a sore thumb.” He raised a hand, nearly let it drop back to his side, then shrugged mentally and patted Connor on the shoulder.

“You go do what you feel is best. Whether that path leads to deviancy or not.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Connor said, one corner of his mouth quirking up slightly, a brief flash of warmth in his gaze.

Hank stood by the open door, Sumo sitting at his side, watching as Connor climbed into the taxi waiting at the curb. When it pulled away and vanished into the darkness, Hank began pushing the door closed.

“Good luck, son.”


End file.
